


and they were roommates

by imposterhuman



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Girls in Love, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, No Angst, Roommates, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, ice cream seduction, oblivious sharon carter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:01:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imposterhuman/pseuds/imposterhuman
Summary: Having an assassin for a roommate was a lot less complicated than Sharon had expected. Sure, Natasha sometimes left her bloody knives on the counter, or forgot one of her extra guns in the cereal cupboard, but at least she didn’t leave her wet towels on the floor. She was considerate like that.Her only problem with her roommate was that sometimes, Natasha took liberties with the contents of the freezer. As in, she stole Sharon’s favorite ice cream. Even if Sharon bought two cartons, she’d always find Natasha eating out of hers. It wasinfuriating.
Relationships: Sharon Carter/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	and they were roommates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [desitonystark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/desitonystark/gifts).



> for the wonderful adi, who wanted some sharon/nat
> 
> enjoy!

Having an assassin for a roommate was a lot less complicated than Sharon had expected. Sure, Natasha sometimes left her bloody knives on the counter, or forgot one of her extra guns in the cereal cupboard, but at least she didn’t leave her wet towels on the floor. She was considerate like that.

Sharon didn’t even mind the weird comings and goings; as a SHIELD agent, she knew hers weren’t much better. So long as Natasha remembered to lock the door behind her, Sharon had no problem with it. Sure, she was a highly trained agent who could defend herself against any intruder, but it was the principle of the thing.

Her only problem with her roommate was that sometimes, Natasha took liberties with the contents of the freezer. As in, she stole Sharon’s favorite ice cream. Even if Sharon bought two cartons, she’d always find Natasha eating out of hers. It was  _ infuriating _ .

Sharon had tried everything. She’d hidden it under the vegetables she  _ knew  _ Natasha never touched, she’d swapped the label with that of a different kind of ice cream, and she’d gotten a separate icebox to put in her room solely for ice cream. In a fit of pique, she’d even padlocked the freezer shut and kept the key on her person.

Natasha had handed her the open padlock the next morning with a pitying smile. Sharon didn’t try again.

Sharon had pretty much given up on keeping her ice cream safe from the redheaded thief, resigning herself to sharing. She had no idea  _ why  _ Natasha insisted on stealing it, but it was honestly more effort than it was worth to get her to stop. 

So when Sharon flopped onto the sofa after a long day at work, she wasn’t surprised to see Natasha perched on the armchair, a carton of Sharon’s ice cream in one hand, a spoon in the other.

“Give it here,” she grumbled, making grabby hands in Natasha’s direction. “I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I had to deal with Fury bitching for three hours today. Give me my damn ice cream before I start crying and I ruin my mascara.”

“That went to an odd place,” Natasha said placidly, handing over the carton and her spoon. “I thought that was going to end with a threat to shoot me.”

“I’m in touch with my emotions,” said Sharon, digging in gratefully. There was nothing like ice cream on a shitty day. “And I left my gun in the kitchen.”

Natasha watched her eat like she’d never get food again. “Don’t hog it all,” she chided. “You bought that to share.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sharon muttered, mouth full. “I bought it for me, you little thief!”

“Then why’d you stop padlocking the freezer?” asked Natasha with a glint of challenge in her eye. “That was practically a gilded invitation and you know it.”

Sharon glared at her. “I’m not moving,” she said finally. “So if you want any of this, you’re going to have to come over here.”

Natasha moved almost too fast for Sharon’s eyes to follow, as was her way. Instead of snatching the carton and slinking back to her armchair, though, she delicately lifted Sharon’s feet and sat on the sofa, letting Sharon’s legs fall over her lap haphazardly. 

“Share,” she repeated, taking the ice cream when Sharon was too shell shocked to protest. Natasha wasn’t normally very tactile; only when she was very tired or after a bad mission did she tolerate touches. Sharon was pretty sure the current case was neither, which made it weirder. 

On top of that, Sharon was pretty sure Natasha was trying to be seductive. It was good ice cream, but it didn’t require little moans at every bite, or for Natasha to do  _ that  _ with her tongue when she was eating it. Sharon didn’t know why, but she hoped Natasha couldn’t hear her heartbeat speeding up.

“If you eat all of my ice cream, Nat, I’m going to kill you,” she muttered, accepting the carton back and taking her own bite. She was proud of the way her voice stayed steady. “Why couldn’t you have gotten two spoons?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Because I was going to eat it all before you got home,” she said bluntly. “But then you got back early and ruined my plans.”

“Some spy you are,” Sharon scoffed. “I left you a note on the fridge telling you I’d be home early and  _ not to eat my fucking ice cream _ .”

“I can’t read English?” Natasha tried, putting on a comically heavy Russian accent. Her smile was teasing but real. Sharon never wanted to stop seeing it.

“You’re a troll,” Sharon groaned theatrically. “We’ve all been fooled! Natasha Romanov is the biggest troll of all.”

“Stop it,” Natasha swatted her lightly. “I have a reputation.”

“Troll,” Sharon repeated, digging in the carton for the last bite of ice cream. She ate it victoriously, ignoring Natasha’s calculating look. “You don’t get any more ice cream.”

Sharon was wholly not expecting the lips on hers. She panicked for a moment, going still, but melted into Natasha’s kiss as soon as her brain gave up on thinking. The other woman tasted like ice cream and something headier that she couldn’t get enough of. 

Natasha pulled back all too soon, a soft smile on her lips. She leaned in again and chastely kissed the corner of Sharon’s mouth.

“You had some ice cream there,” she said by way of explantation, eyes twinkling. “I was just cleaning it up for you. Besides, I wanted that last taste. It’s good ice cream.”

Sharon was finding it very difficult to form words. She cursed Natasha’s smoothness compared to her own awkward fumbling. “W… what? Um…”

“Better throw that away,” Natasha said, standing and gesturing towards the empty container. She was smirking, but Sharon was too dazed to try to decipher what it meant. “Otherwise, we’ll get ants. Night, Sharon.”

Sharon stared after her as she left. It took a lot of effort to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, if she was being honest, but she knew one thing.

She glared at the ice cream carton in her hand, with its single spoon and unassuming packaging. “This is  _ all your fault _ .”

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos make me happy :))
> 
> im accepting f/f prompts on tumblr right now so hit me up [@imposter-human](https://imposter-human.tumblr.com/)!!


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